


Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

by galacticsugar



Series: Great British Bake Off AU [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Awkward Luke Hemmings, Drinking, Flirting, Fluff, Luke and Ashton are contestants on The Great British Bake Off, Luke is kind of insecure but he's really into Ashton, M/M, Pandemic is plot-relevant but not in a big way, Pining, Swearing, calum is a contestant too and he's just having a good time, leather trousers luke, michael is a very patient friend who occasionally makes trouble, this is really just 20k of awkward lashton flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticsugar/pseuds/galacticsugar
Summary: Ashton looks up at Luke through his eyelashes, still gripping Luke’s arm lightly. His eyes are filled with concern. “Are you sure? It looks kinda bad.”“It’ll be okay. I’ll have First Aid look at it after I get my shortbread out.” This seems to placate Ashton, who nods once and drops Luke’s arm. “Okay, as long as you promise to get it looked at. I can’t be the reason you lose an arm. I’ll never be able to live with myself.” He smiles at Luke, and Luke can’t help but smile back. He hopes he doesn’t look too obviously smitten. He can almost feel the cartoon hearts popping up over his head.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings
Series: Great British Bake Off AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132871
Comments: 31
Kudos: 59





	Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm so this is my first 5SOS fic ever and the first thing I've written in a very long time, so...I hope it's not terrible! I just got kind of obsessed with the idea of Luke & Ash on Bake Off and before I knew it I had a 20k fic. Sorry for the extremely cliche title but it was too easy; I had to.
> 
> A few things -
> 
> I am decidedly not British, so while I tried to be accurate to the local lingo and whatnot, there may be some inaccuracies. I tried to keep the baking stuff generally within the realm of reality as well but again, possibly some inaccuracies.
> 
> I also took some liberties with pandemic stuff and the inner workings of the show for the sake of plot. I realize it makes no sense that these contestants are quarantined together because of the pandemic but still shaking hands and eating at restaurants with no mention of masks. I also realize that the show doesn't air 3 days after it's filmed. Just roll with it.
> 
> Oh, and I didn't imagine the guys as British in this, just Australians living/working in England, but it's fairly irrelevant so interpret however you want.
> 
> I hate conflict so this is really 20k of flirting and fluff. If you like angst, this is not the fic for you.
> 
> Oh, and you can say hello on tumblr [@staticsounds](https://staticsounds.tumblr.com/), where I have a baby 5SOS sideblog.

“160 degrees for caramel, 50 degrees to temper chocolate…” Luke mumbles under his breath as he hunches over his phone, reviewing his notes and quietly attempting to force the information to stick in his brain for more than ten seconds.

He’s in the backseat of a non-descript black sedan that’s carrying him to the English countryside, leaving London behind in a haze of pandemic-induced anxiety. His window is down, the cool breeze helping him stay alert and focused on his notes until it rustles a stray curl loose from behind his ear. He pushes it back absentmindedly, and looks up to see his destination coming into focus down the road.

When Luke auditioned to be a contestant on _The Great British_ _Bake Off_ the previous fall, it didn’t occur to him that he might actually make the cut. And it certainly didn’t occur to him that he’d be competing on the show in the midst of a global pandemic, forcing him to decide if being on the show was worth quarantining for six weeks in the middle of nowhere with dozens of strangers. Luke is an introvert, and it takes him a while to get comfortable with new people. The idea of basically being locked up with his competitors, who he knows absolutely nothing about, scares the hell out of him.

He can already envision it: he’ll be the boring, slightly awkward guy in the corner; not sure how to talk to the other contestants, not interesting or funny enough to ever be endearing to them. He’ll just _be_ , and he fully expects to feel a bit lonely and left out throughout the course of filming. He hopes that there might be at least one person who _gets_ him, someone who he clicks with enough to at least feel like he’s not totally alone.

Ultimately Luke chose to join the show because sitting alone in his flat in London for months on end wasn’t doing any favors for his mental health. He felt like he was on the world’s worst rollercoaster – one day he’d be fine, enjoying the opportunity to watch Netflix and snuggle with Petunia on the couch; the next day he would be crawling out of his skin with the desire to _do something_ and the immense need to have something to look forward to, but there was nothing. The show gave him that, and even though he hated the idea of leaving Petunia with Michael for six weeks, in the end he made the decision to go for it.

Luke’s car pulls into the driveway of a quirky boutique hotel – his home for the foreseeable future, along with the rest of the show’s cast and crew. He has just enough time to pick up his key and dump his bags in his assigned room before heading to the hotel’s banquet room for orientation brunch. Luke learned pretty quickly that being a contestant on _The Great British_ _Bake Off_ is not unlike signing up for middle school science camp. Many waivers to be signed, schedules to review, and, apparently, orientations to attend.

The banquet room is bright, the sun streaming in the large windows temporarily obscuring Luke’s view of the room until his eyes adjust. There are quite a few people gathered already, clustered around different tables and chatting with each other as they flip through packets of orientation information and nibble at dry-looking scones.

Luke stands frozen in the entryway for a moment, trying to decide on a plan of action. No one seems to have noticed him, so he heads over to the buffet table at the back of the room to avoid having to interact with any actual humans just yet. He picks up a plate and piles on a few small pastries; they look prepackaged and Luke’s mouth quirks into a smirk at the irony of serving a room full of amazing bakers packaged scones from the freezer section at Tesco.

After dawdling as much as possible around the buffet table, Luke finally turns around to face the room and considers his next move. He doesn’t want to walk up to a table of people and introduce himself. What if they just stare at him like he’s crazy and ignore him? Or even worse, what if they’re obviously annoyed with the intrusion but are too polite to say so and he just has to sit there awkwardly, knowing he’s not wanted? And he doesn’t want to go and sit at a table by himself either. What if everyone thinks he’s stuck up? Or serial killer? Or that he’s so annoying and awful that he scared everyone who had been at the table away?

Luke is saved from deciding which socially awkward fate he’d prefer by a friendly voice behind him. “Brave of you to go with the cherry turnover. It looks like it’s filled with actual blood.” Luke startles and spins around to see a guy, around his age with a mess of wavy light brown hair and a comically small cup of tea, grinning and looking pointedly at Luke’s plate.

“Oh uh…” Luke smiles automatically – he’s nothing if not polite - but his brain struggles to remember how to string words together. It’s been a while since he’s talked to someone face-to-face besides Michael. But this guy looks nice enough. He has dimples and his smile reaches his eyes and Luke figures he may as well take the lifeline that was offered. Maybe they can be friends. Maybe Luke won’t have to be lonely for the next six weeks. Maybe Luke is getting way, way ahead of himself. “I thought it might intimidate the competition if I looked like the sort of guy who was willing to consume blood at 10am on a Thursday.”

Oh God. His delivery was dry, he’s not smiling…this guy isn’t going to know he’s joking and will think he’s a total creep. Luke can feel his skin heating up and his fight or flight reflexes starting to kick in. But after one terrifying second of silence that feels like hours, the guy just giggles in response. “Maybe I should grab one too then!” he says with an exaggerated wink in Luke’s direction as he reaches toward the platter of turnovers.

Luke nods and laughs awkwardly, but he doesn’t know how to respond. “So, you’re a contestant too?” he tries, hoping to keep the guy talking. It would be really nice to have someone to sit with who doesn’t get offended when he makes awkward jokes about borderline cannibalism. That was as good of a sign as any that he and this guy might be friends.

“I am, yeah.” The guy turns back around to face Luke and Luke notices his eyes are hazel, but a kind of hazel Luke doesn’t think he has ever seen before. In the morning sun they look almost gold, and Luke probably stares at them for a beat too long. “Ashton,” the guy says, holding out his free hand for Luke to shake.

Luke blinks and snaps back into the moment. “Good to meet you. I’m Luke.” He shakes Ashton’s hand, hoping Ashton won’t notice his sweaty palm.

“So what’s your specialty then?” Ashton asks, looking up at Luke and squinting slightly in the sunlight.

“My specialty?”

“Yeah, like some people are really good at pastry, some people are really good at bread…what are you really good at?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Luke responds. Ashton huffs out a laugh and shoots Luke a skeptical look. Right, they’re about to be on a baking competition show. “I mean,” Luke recovers, “I guess I’m pretty good at everything, but not amazing at anything in particular? What about you?” Luke is desperate to keep Ashton talking, but he doesn’t know how to not be boring.

“I like cakes best,” Ashton says with a shrug. “I’m really good with decorating.”

Luke nods and Ashton watches him intently. Luke briefly wonders if Ashton is just talking to him to try to size up the competition. Perhaps Luke has completely misread this interaction. But then Ashton smiles and nudges Luke with his shoulder. “Well, Luke, would you like to grab a table and intimidate the others with our blood-eating antics?” Ashton asks, raising his eyebrows and inclining his head toward the tables.

Luke lets out a relieved breath and nods enthusiastically. “Definitely,” he says, trying and failing not to sound too desperate.

Ashton is already leading the way through the maze of tables. He selects an empty one near the front of the room, and Luke is comforted that he didn’t choose a table where other contestants were already sitting. Luke thinks this means that Ashton probably doesn’t find him weird or annoying, and isn’t just putting up with him to be polite. If that were the case, he’d have picked a table where he’d have reinforcements instead of committing himself to spending at least a few more minutes alone with Luke. The thought gives Luke a small burst of confidence.

“It’s crazy how we’re going to be stuck here for six weeks,” he says, settling himself into a chair next to Ashton and attempting to fold his long legs under the table.

“People back home you’ll be missing?” Ashton asks, his voice surprisingly soft. Luke looks over at him. Now that the sun’s not shining directly on his face, his eyes look like a swirl of early fall leaves, green mixing with brown and gold.

Luke snorts. “Back in London? Not really. Mostly just my dog. I was already spending all my time alone thanks to the pandemic.”

“Oh! You live alone?” Ashton seems a little surprised, but Luke isn’t sure why. He hasn’t given Ashton any reason to think he’s _not_ a socially awkward recluse with very little experience speaking to actual humans.

“Yeah, just me and my girl Petunia,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing Ashton the photo of Petunia on his lock screen. Luke smiles when he sees the photo, making a mental note to text Michael as soon as orientation is over to check on Petunia. He wants to make sure Michael is giving her enough treats.

Ashton glances at the photo, then back to Luke’s face. “She’s cute,” he says with a careful smile, looking Luke straight in the eyes. “Who’s watching her while you’re away?”

The eye contact makes Luke blush. He can feel his cheeks heating and he looks back down at his phone. “My best friend, Mikey. He’s the one who convinced me to try out for the show so I figured the least he could do was keep Petunia cozy and spoiled while I’m away.”

“A man who loves his dog,” Ashton chuckles. “I can appreciate that.” Luke risks a glance back up. He _really_ wants to see the smile on Ashton’s face when he laughs.

Luke smiles softly. “Yeah, maybe it’s silly, but she’s the most important thing in my life right now.” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“It’s not silly, it’s cute!” Ashton’s still smiling back at Luke and Luke is still flushed and hot, but hearing Ashton call him cute soothes his anxiety a little. Luke scratches lightly at the back of his neck, an unconscious tic that hits him any time someone looks at him for more than a few seconds.

“Petunia is actually the reason I got into baking,” he says, trying to settle back in to the conversation. Ashton raises an eyebrow in encouragement. “Michael gave me a cookbook for dog treats as a gag gift before I even had Petunia,” Luke continues. “I got her from a shelter and I just wanted to spoil her so much to make up for whatever she’d been through to end up there. I dug out the cookbook and started making different treats for her every week. Mikey kept bugging me about making treats for him too so I started figuring out ways to adapt Petunia’s treats into human treats.”

Luke finally cuts his eyes back over to Ashton’s face. His eyebrows are still raised, and he looks absolutely delighted, suppressing a smile on his face but unable to keep it out of his eyes. Luke’s heartbeat picks up slightly, pleased that Ashton seems to be enjoying his story, and he’s encouraged to keep going. “I’d make them match and everything. At first I just thought it was funny to see Michael and Petunia both eating cookies shaped like bones and stuff like that, but eventually I realized I actually really enjoyed the baking part.”

Ashton laughs, really fully _laughs_ , and it’s loud and melodic and Luke thinks it is the cutest sound he has ever heard, even cuter than Petunia’s little snorts when she’s in the throes of an exciting ham-eating dream. “That. Is. Amazing.” Ashton says, recovering from his fit of laughter. “They’re definitely going to want to use that story on the show, and the audience is going to eat it up. A hot guy with cute dog stories - I can already tell you’ll be the week one favorite!”

He’s joking, Luke knows, but knowing that does nothing to calm his blush or his heartrate. Luke suddenly realizes that perhaps he is interested in Ashton as more than a friend…and perhaps this is going to be a problem for him.

*******

Two hours later, Luke is back in his room with his head full of information from orientation and Ashton’s number in his phone, “in case you get bored alone in your hotel room and would rather be bored with some company.” He kicks off his shoes and splays out on his stomach on the hotel bed, sighing deeply and enjoying the feel of the satiny duvet on his bare forearms.

He knows he should be preparing for his first Signature Bake with day one of filming just a few short days away, but he’s finding it hard to focus. He’s too wired now that it’s real and he’s actually _here_ , about to film a show that millions of people will watch. Not to mention the high of managing to convince Ashton he is someone worth hanging out with. His apparent crush on Ashton is an inconvenience, but Luke doesn’t mind compartmentalizing it if it means he’ll have a friend on the show. He’s dealt with one-sided crushes so often he’s an old pro at this point. Why not add another one to the pile?

With a slightly guilty glance at his notebook full of all his recipes and study notes, Luke pulls his phone out of his pocket and flips onto his back to dial Michael.

“Hey man! How many cakes have you baked so far?” Michael greets him halfway through the first ring.

Luke rolls his eyes. “I’ve only been here for four hours, Mike.”

“So? Isn’t the whole point to see who can bake the most?”

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.”

“It’s not like I’ve ever watched the show. I don’t know what you’re doing.” Michael sounds put out, but Luke can hear the pride behind it. Michael won’t admit it, but he is Luke’s biggest fan.

“You’re the one who signed me up, Mike. You had to have some idea what happens.”

“Whatever man. So how many cakes?”

Luke groans and counters, “How many treats have you given Petunia?”

“I don’t know, like, I give her a couple every time she goes out?”

“Michael! No wonder she doesn’t like you.”

“What, I’m supposed to give her more than that? She’s already massive, maybe it’s good for – hey, she likes me fine!”

“Well. She likes me better. How is she doing?”

Michael hears the sincerity in Luke’s tone and drops the sass. “She’s good, man. Lots of napping. We played with her hamburger for a while last night. She likes my fuzzy bedspread.”

“You let her sleep in your bed?” Luke is pleasantly surprised.

“Of course. I can’t say no to that face!” Mikey protests, slightly embarrassed.

“No, it’s good. Thank you for taking good care of her for me.”

“Yeah, we’re having a good time. How are things there? If you’re not making cakes yet what are you doing?”

“Orienting.”  
  
“I need more, Luke.”

“You know, sitting in a room with everyone and learning about how things are going to go. Eating stale turnovers. Orienting.”

“How are the other contestants?”

Luke hums. “I’m not really sure yet. I’ve only really talked to one so far.”

Michael laughs knowingly. “Sounds about right. Okay, how is the one other contestant you’ve talked to?”

Luke pauses, trying to decide how honest to be with Michael. He decides he’s probably better off being vague. He doesn’t need Mikey encouraging him to put the moves on his competition. As if he even has any moves. “Um, his name is Ashton and he likes making cakes. He seems nice.”

“Oh my God, Luke.”

“What?!”

“Give me something to work with. Anything. What’s he like? What did you guys talk about?”

“Okay, fine.” Luke takes a deep breath. “He’s…nice-“ Michael huffs in frustration. “He’s _really_ nice and he liked hearing about you and Petunia and he gave me his number so I think we’ll probably hang out a little.”

“How old is he?”

“Dunno. About our age I guess.”

“Ooh.” Michael’s voice perks up. “Is he cute?”

“Why, want me to set you up?” Luke jokes.

“I was more thinking you should set _yourself_ up.”

Luke flushes. His damn body is always betraying him. At least Michael can’t see and tease him about it. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He’s my competition.” Luke keeps his voice steady and tries to gracefully steer the conversation away from the topic of him and Ashton in a romantic context. “I’m just glad there’s someone here I’m comfortable talking to so I’m not just the awkward guy hovering in the background.”

Michael chuckles. “Yeah, there was a pretty high chance of that happening. I’m glad you made a friend then. Try to make some more maybe?”

“It’s not easy for me like it is for you. You know that.”

“I know, Luke. But just be open to it. You might be a fucking weirdo but you’re a charming weirdo, I promise.”

Luke smiles to himself, not entirely convinced but still grateful for Michael’s vote of confidence.

“Sure, Mike. I guess I’d better go. I only called you to avoid studying.”

“Rude!” Michael huffs. “See how many treats I give Petunia the rest of the day.”

“Don’t punish her for my mistakes!”  
  
“I’m just messing with you. I’ll give her the whole bag of treats. Now go study or whatever. I expect you to have made at least six cakes before dinnertime.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Sure, Mike. Talk to you later.” He hangs up the phone and rolls back onto his stomach, burying his head in his arms. The new place, the new people – it’s a lot for him to take in all at once, and he suddenly feels drained from it. The adrenaline that was spiking his blood a few minutes earlier has left him high and dry, so he decides to have a nap before he studies.

He dreams that he’s at a watch party for the show with all the other contestants. They’re all happy to see him, and they hug him enthusiastically and laugh at his jokes. He sits next to Ashton, and while the cheerful opening credits tune for the show plays, Ashton silently reaches for Luke’s hand. Luke lets him take it. Somehow, Luke knows if he turns his head to face Ashton, they’re going to kiss. But he doesn’t turn his head. It feels too risky. He just sits looking straight ahead, holding Ashton’s hand tightly while butterflies erupt in his stomach.

*******

The sound of his phone buzzing next to his head wakes Luke. He blearily reaches for it, trying to get his bearings outside of his dream and back in the real world. He has two unread texts.

Ashton: Hey, I was just thinking about getting some dinner at the restaurant downstairs.

Ashton: You hungry? Want to keep me company?

Luke’s forehead creases in confusion. Dinner? He just had breakfast. Oh, right. It’s after 6. Somehow he’d managed to nap for longer than he slept the entire previous night. As if on cue, Luke’s stomach grumbles.

Luke: Sure. I can meet you down there in 10?

Ashton: Perfect. See you then. :)

The smiley face is physically painful for Luke. He’s a sucker for a smiley face. Between the dream and the smiley face, Luke is _certain_ he’s going to be awkward when he sees Ashton. Luke is always a little awkward with new people, but a crush…a crush turns him into a walking defense mechanism. He overthinks everything he says, he relies too heavily on sarcasm, and his actual personality gets stuck in the filter between his brain and his mouth.

But there’s nothing to be done about it. Luke glances at himself in the mirror, attempting to rearrange his curls into something slightly more appealing than disheveled bedhead. It doesn’t go well, so he gives up and throws on his leather jacket before he heads out the door.

*******

When Luke reaches the lobby, he spots Ashton near the entrance of the restaurant, chatting with two people Luke recognizes from the morning’s orientation as fellow contestants. His stomach drops. Is his dinner with Ashton actually a group outing? _Great._ It makes sense, he supposes. Most people would be excited to get to know the people they’ll be spending the next six weeks with. He shouldn’t have expected Ashton to want to spend time with him and him alone.

Ashton spots Luke approaching and smiles brightly. “Luke! Have you met Oliver and Sophie yet?” Oliver and Sophie are both a bit older, maybe in their 60s. Luke immediately appreciates Sophie’s kind eyes and Oliver’s Dalmatian-print bowtie.

Luke shifts into his _professional_ persona. It’s not quite _him_. It’s a version of him that’s less shy and more bland, designed to be inoffensive to his coworkers and effective at convincing people he is confident and competent. “Not yet!” He smiles brightly and offers his hand to Oliver and Sophie in introduction.

When he gets to Sophie she shakes Luke’s hand enthusiastically and leans in close to him. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I had my eye on you during orientation this morning.” She winks conspiratorially. “If I were 30 years younger…” she trails off with a suggestive smirk.

Unsurprisingly, Luke blushes deeply. He doesn’t think Sophie means to make him uncomfortable – she seems to be aiming for some lighthearted complimentary teasing, but as usual he doesn’t really know how to respond. If he were someone else, he would make a clever joke, or even flirt back – both options would probably endear him to Sophie immediately. Instead, he tries to cover his discomfort with an agreeable chuckle. “Oh, um. Thank you?” He spies Ashton biting back a smile over Sophie’s shoulder and makes a face he hopes Ashton will understand means _HELP ME!_

Thankfully, Ashton seems to get the message and cuts in to the conversation. “Get in line, Sophie!” he says teasingly. Okay, so maybe he didn’t get the message after all. Luke feels very warm in his leather jacket.

“I know, I know, just let me have my fun! It’s good for the ratings!” Sophie exclaims. Luke laughs loudly. This is something he can work with.

“Anything for the ratings!” Luke says. “I loved the season where Agnes was constantly hitting on Tim. It was so cute when he made a biscuit homage to her in the final.”

“Yes! I loved that season too! That’s just good TV,” Sophie replies, nodding victoriously at Ashton.

Ashton puts up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right, flirt away. Just maybe consider spreading it around a little so the rest of us can get some screen time.”

“You’re just cranky because you’re hungry,” Sophie chides. “You boys should get going to dinner!”

_Oh._ Sophie and Oliver aren’t joining them. Luke is going to have Ashton to himself after all. He quietly sighs with relief. He does want to get to know Sophie and Oliver and all the other contestants better eventually. He just isn’t quite ready to do it _tonight_.

Luke and Ashton wave goodbye and head into the restaurant. The extra energy Luke conjured up to deal with a larger group is still bubbling in his brain, and it makes him feel bolder than usual.

“I’ve been feeling a little shy around all these new people but for some reason having an old lady flirt with me has really boosted my confidence,” Luke says to Ashton as they slide into a booth.

Ashton giggles. “Do you have some previously-undiscovered fetish for older women?”

“Hmph. Possibly. More like I just liked that she seemed to like me, since I usually can’t tell with people.”

Ashton raises an eyebrow. “But she only likes you because she thinks you’re hunky.”

“Damn it. I thought it was my sparkling personality.” Luke replies flatly.

“Maybe that too,” Ashton amends. “It sounds like you guys have a lot in common, what with your encyclopedic knowledge of past _Bake Off_ seasons,” he teases.

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me you don’t know Agnes and Tim. Everyone knows Agnes and Tim.”

“He says matter-of-factly.” Ashton smirks.

“They do!” Luke insists. He spots a waitress headed their direction with menus. “Ask our server! I bet she knows them!”

Ashton looks at Luke skeptically as the server approaches. “Hi there! Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, handing them menus.

Ashton’s still looking at Luke, and Luke cocks his head in a challenge. Ashton gazes back intently, like he’s trying to figure Luke out. “Not sure yet,” Ashton says, finally looking up at the server. “But I am curious…do you know Agnes and Tim from _Bake Off_?”

The server looks surprised for a second, but she recovers quickly and smiles brightly. “Oh, totally! The older lady with a thing for the cute college guy, right? I loved them. It was sweet how they looked out for each other.”

Luke smiles triumphantly. “It was, wasn’t it? Thanks for helping me prove a point. We just need a few minutes with the menus.”

As the server turns to leave, Luke can’t help but do a little victory dance, shimmying his shoulders slightly. “Told you so!” he says to Ashton.

“And here I thought you were a nice guy after meeting you this morning,” Ashton teases.

“Hey! I _am_ a nice guy. I also like being right.”

“It’s okay,” Ashton says. “I like it when you’re feisty.”

Luke shoots him an exaggerated sweet smile. Ashton smiles back, eyes roaming over Luke’s face, and Luke has to look down at his menu before it gets awkward. Luke feels a little giddy, like the stress of the new situation has finally melted into excitement and anticipation. He decides to ride the high while it lasts.

“I, um, kind of feel bad that we’ve been hanging out today but I’ve never actually asked you anything about yourself, yet you already know that I’m obsessed with my dog and into old ladies.” Luke peeks at Ashton over his menu with a cheeky grin.

Ashton laughs as he runs a hand through his hair, pushing his curls out of his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. There’s been a lot of information to take in today. My pets and fetishes probably aren’t high on the list of things you need to retain.”

Luke giggles and scrunches up his face thoughtfully. “I don’t know about that. Might be useful to use against you somehow in competition.”

“What, are you going to psych me out by making a bondage-themed cake or something?”

Luke considers this and a smile slowly stretches across his face. “I hope you’re joking because now I really want to do that, but I don’t actually want to psych you out.”

“Wouldn’t that be a little too explicit for the _Bake Off_ tent?” Ashton chuckles.

“Maybe it would’ve been a bit much for BBC. But we’re on Channel 4 now! We can get away with anything.”

“Luke, now I am going to be exceptionally disappointed if I don’t get to see Paul Hollywood attempting to judge a bondage-themed cake. I just don’t think you’re brave enough.”

“I can see why you might think that,” Luke concedes. “But I am actually very strange. It comes out in weird ways.”

“Such as?” Ashton prompts.

“Well, a bondage cake for one. But like…” Luke pauses to think. “Okay, here’s something. Last year I was in charge of planning holiday and social events for my team at work. Valentine’s Day happened to land on Friday the 13th weekend, so I organized the world’s creepiest Valentine’s Day party. I decorated with anatomical hearts and dimmed all the lights and had a fog machine going and _Drag Me To Hell_ playing on the conference room screen. My coworkers barely know me and some of them turned around and walked out of the room as soon as they saw it, probably fearing for their lives.”

Ashton’s face twitches like he’s holding back laughter. “I don’t know if I’d call that strange so much as a cry for help.”

Luke rolls his eyes fondly. “Everything I do is a cry for help,” he says. “But quit distracting me. I’m supposed to be learning about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Normal stuff? Where are you from? What do you do? Are you also into older women?”

Ashton shakes his head. “Really getting a lot of mileage out of that one.”

Luke shrugs. “I don’t come up with good material very often so when I do I have to milk it.” He looks at Ashton expectantly.

“Um, okay. I’m from London. I’m a graphic designer for a marketing company. I’m not really into older women, but older men are different story. Have you _seen_ Brad Pitt in _Once Upon A Time In Hollywood_?!” Ashton fans his face with his hand like an overheated southern belle.

Luke nods appreciatively. “I _have,_ and I agree with you completely.” He pauses and considers how to subtly find out if Ashton has a significant other waiting for him back in London. “You forgot to mention pets though,” he tries.

“Nope, no pets.” At first Ashton doesn’t elaborate, and Luke curses internally. But then, “It’s good though because I don’t really have any family or friends in London to take care of a pet while I’m gone.”

“Really?” Luke asks, skeptical. He can’t imagine how someone as beautiful and charming as Ashton doesn’t have a full fan club of admirers, or at least a few close friends. “Are you new to the city or something?”

“Sort of. I moved to London a little over a year ago for work, but it’s been hard for me to make friends.”

“How come?” Luke presses.

Ashton shifts in the booth uncomfortably. “Um. I don’t really know. I guess I’ve just never really had to try. Back home all my friends were people I grew up with. We went to school together, we were in sports together; so making friends just happened naturally. Now that I’m in London and I don’t know anyone, I don’t know where to start so I just…haven’t.”

Luke nods, letting this sink in. “That makes sense. I guess I’m just surprised since you had no problem befriending me, and I’m completely incompetent at dealing with new people so that’s no small feat.”

Ashton smiles softly, but it quickly morphs into a devilish grin. “I guess I just sensed you were even more pathetic than me so I had nothing to lose.”

“I’ll give you that. But I saw you yukking it up with Oliver and my sugar mama Sophie earlier. You don’t seem to have a problem connecting with people.”

Ashton bites his lip thoughtfully. It makes his dimples pop. Luke could die. “Yeah, I guess coming here has felt like a fresh start. In London I let myself sit at home alone for so long it just became normal and I couldn’t break the habit. Now that I’m here, I don’t have that baggage. It’s made things easier.”

“I get that. Sometimes you just need a clean slate. And lots of _Bake Off_ contestants end up making really close friends on the show. I bet once this is all said and done you’ll have a few new _Bake Off_ friends you can hang out with in London.”

Ashton stares at Luke. “Well I certainly hope so, seeing as you also live in London and I’m pretty sure we’re something resembling friends at this point.” He gives Luke a teasing smile.

For all his overthinking of literally everything, this had not actually occurred to Luke. He could keep seeing Ashton after the show wraps. They could be _real life_ friends. Granted, his crush on Ashton might be mild emotional torture for Luke if that actually happened, but it would probably be worth it to be able to hear Ashton’s laugh and see his dimples and find out what color his eyes are under the city lights at night. They’re very green in the dim lights of the restaurant. Not that Luke has noticed.

After a few beats of silence Luke realizes he’s been lost in thought and Ashton is waiting for some kind of response. He actually looks a little nervous, like he thinks maybe Luke will say _Nah, I’m just using you for company while we film the show and I don’t actually want to be seen with you within the city limits of London._

“I’m surprised you even remember I live in London. But obviously we should hang out when we’re back home. You can meet Petunia! As long as we don’t have some sort of falling out on the show over stolen freezer space or something.”

“Is that a thing?” Ashton’s eyes are bright; grateful even. It reminds Luke of the look Petunia gives him when he drops a few bits of cheese in her bowl.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know about Bingate.” Ashton looks at him blankly. “Oh my god, have you ever even watched the show?” Luke whines.

“I…” Ashton suddenly looks very red. “I watched a few episodes last week.”

“You watched _a few_ episodes _last week_?” Luke echoes incredulously. “Seriously? That’s it? How are you even here?”

Ashton looks appropriately chagrined. “So basically I’ve been doing a lot of baking with so much spare time on my hands, and my sister loves the show, so she talked me into it. Teenage girls can be extremely persuasive.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Luke says, “But I’m glad she got you to do it.” He bumps Ashton’s foot lightly under the table. “I can teach you some _Bake Off_ history if you want. It might be helpful for the competition.”

“I’d like that,” Ashton says with a grin. “Can you tell me if it’s normal for the brief for the first Showstopper challenge to involve sculpting with biscuits? Because I still haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to pull that off.”

Luke shakes his head. “I can’t believe filming starts in three days and you don’t have your Showstopper planned. You need to watch the first episode of season 10. That will give you some ideas.”

“I’m a procrastinator as a general rule. I always pull it off in the end, though,” Ashton says confidently. He looks Luke in the eyes, bites his lip again. Luke could die again. “Would you…want to watch that episode with me tomorrow? Maybe you could get something helpful out of it too?”

Ashton’s asking timidly. It feels different to Luke than the invitation to sit together this morning, and from the casual invite to dinner tonight. Luke’s not quite sure what that means, but it makes his chest feel warm and fluttery. He wonders why he felt butterflies in his stomach in his dream about Ashton. In reality, Luke feels them right in the middle of his chest, next to his heart.

“I can’t think of a way I’d rather spend the day,” Luke responds sincerely. It feels bold, for him. He doesn’t miss the slight blush on Ashton’s cheeks.

*******

The thing about watching Netflix with someone in a hotel room is that there’s not really a good way to do it that doesn’t involve both people on the same bed. Luke and Ashton sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Ashton’s laptop propped up on a pillow in front of them while the _Bake Off_ opening credits roll. As the first challenge starts, Luke finds it difficult to focus on the show. He’s too aware of every point on his body that’s connected to Ashton, especially where Ashton’s left bicep touches Luke’s right elbow.

That bicep. Luke can’t see it right now, with his head carefully focused straight ahead on the laptop screen, but he got an eyeful when Ashton let him in to the room and he just _knows_ that bicep is straining against the thin cotton of Ashton’s T-shirt. (Luke didn’t really expect this from a graphic designer, but he’s not complaining.) And that bicep is touching him. Right now. Luke is an adult man, for God’s sake. He should not be this worked up over proximity to an arm, no matter how impressive the arm in question might be.

Luke is warm with anxious energy, but his entire body is shaking like a leaf. This is another way Luke’s body likes to betray him when he’s close to a crush. He originally noticed it on his very first date when he was in high school, and it had never stopped. It doesn’t seem to matter if his mind is calm; his body doesn’t get the message. At this point he’s used to the shaking, and it usually goes away once he’s had a few dates with someone. Unfortunately, it can be hard to hide, and halfway through the Signature Bake, Ashton notices. “You cold?” he asks Luke.

“A little,” Luke says, figuring the white lie is the easiest option. _Actually, I just like you so much it terrifies me and my brain has deployed excessive amounts of adrenaline in an attempt to get me to either run away from you or tackle you on this bed_ is probably an overshare when he’s known Ashton for precisely one day.

Ashton pauses the show and slides off the bed. “Get up for a sec, we can pull the blanket out.”

Luke stumbles sideways out of the bed, tripping on his own legs in the process. Ashton snickers at Luke as he untucks the white duvet and folds it down. Luke shoots him a Look. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ashton drops back into the bed and looks up at Luke. “I’m just wondering if you’re this graceful in the kitchen too. I’m picturing you whirling around in a cloud of flour and knocking pans off the counter with your elbows or something.”

Luke joins Ashton on the bed, carefully sliding under the duvet and pulling it up to his neck to keep up appearances. “I wish I could be offended but that’s actually a fairly accurate description of me when I’m baking.”

“Really?” Ashton raises his eyebrows. “Then I hope my station is near yours when we film. I could do with some entertainment when I have downtime on my bakes.” He grins at Luke, eyes dropping to the duvet bunched at Luke’s neck. He shakes head, his smile softening.

“What?” Luke prompts again.

“Nothing.” Ashton shakes his head again and presses play on his laptop.

*******

45 hours later, Luke is standing at his bench in the famed _Bake Off_ tent, surrounded by cameras, warm lights, and his 11 competitors. The tent already smells like sugar, and Luke breathes in deeply to savor it. Despite his anxious tendencies, he feels calm and prepared for the Signature Bake. He’s always been like this – a ball of nerves when dealing with people directly, but comfortable and composed when he’s in the spotlight showing what he can do. He may not be very good at talking to people, but he can let his baking talent speak for him.

After Saturday morning with Ashton, Luke spent the rest of the weekend practicing his bakes for the week. A makeshift practice space had been set up in the hotel banquet room since the bakers wouldn’t have the normal option of practicing at home between filming. The practice area was like an off-brand version of the actual _Bake Off_ tent. A row of ovens lined one wall, a row of refrigerators lined the opposite wall, and fold-up benches stretched between them. There was only one large sink for the bakers to share, and it was located in a separate kitchen nook off the banquet room.

Luke saw several other bakers practicing over the weekend and even managed to strike up some friendly conversation with a few of them. It was easier when he had something immediate – like his burnt chocolate biscuits – to make small talk about. He didn’t see Ashton again until Sunday afternoon, and Ashton was so focused on making the most of his minimal practice time that Luke didn’t really interact with him aside from waving a greeting and exchanging quick _how are you_ s when they ran into each other in the shared sink area.

This morning Luke entered the tent feeling a good kind of nervous. The kind of nervous that made him feel alive. And he felt even better when he realized his bench was directly behind Ashton’s. Sure, it might be a little distracting to have Ashton so close, but…honestly, Luke didn’t care. He wanted as much of Ashton as he could get, even if it cost him Star Baker. Worth it.

He feels confident for his own bakes, but Luke is a little worried about Ashton. Luke can’t imagine coming up with a plan for a challenging Showstopper _one day_ head of time. He’s concerned that Ashton doesn’t quite know what he’s getting into, and he doesn’t want to see Ashton sent home after the first week.

But when Luke glances ahead at Ashton, he doesn’t seem worried. He’s leaning his hip against his bench, arms crossed over his apron, and a warm smile on his face as he listens to one of the producers provide some last-minute instructions before cameras start rolling. His eyes slide over to Luke, and his smile gets wider when their eyes meet. Ashton raises his eyebrows at Luke and bounces his shoulders a little, excited to get started. Luke giggles quietly, biting his lip to try to keep a straight face.

A few minutes later, Luke hears “On your marks, get set…Bake!” and suddenly it’s real. He’s on _The Great British Bake Off_. It doesn’t _feel_ real. He’s watched the show so many times he thought he knew what to expect, but it doesn’t really register. Logically he knows he will be on TV, but he’s not on TV right now. He’s just standing in a tent, looking at his recipe. He’s baked with the show on in the background so often that the other contestants surrounding him don’t feel completely real. It may as well be any other afternoon in his kitchen back home. He begins methodically gathering his ingredients, and he’s in the zone. Everything happening around him is muffled. Occasionally a camera passes in and out of his peripheral vision, catching him mumbling to himself as he mixes and measures, but he barely notices.

The timer for Luke’s shortbread beeps and he snaps back into reality. The bakers have been instructed to alert producers before they open their oven so a camera can catch the shot, which Luke forgot about completely. Now he’s in a rush to get his shortbread out before it overbakes, so he gestures wildly at the nearest producer, hoping to catch her attention. “Hey! I’m about to open my oven!” She’s walking past Luke’s bench, and then past Ashton’s bench. Her hand is on her earpiece, listening intently to something only she can hear, and she hasn’t noticed Luke yet.

Luke jogs after her, arm outstretched. Just as he gets close enough to tap her shoulder, he feels heat against his other arm. “Fuck!” He grabs his forearm as pain starts radiating across his skin. The producer finally turns to look at him, eyebrows knit together in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to open my oven.” He grits his teeth against the pain he feels in his arm. The producer just stares back at him, confused. “I need to open my oven,” he says again, more forcefully.

“Oh, sorry, okay.” She turns to flag down a cameraperson. Luke bounces impatiently, glad at least that he doesn’t smell any burning shortbread in the air. Yet.

“You okay mate?” Ashton is suddenly beside Luke, tentatively reaching for Luke’s arm. “I think your arm caught the edge of the pan I just pulled out of the oven.”

Ah, so _that_ was the reason for the hot zaps of pain radiating from Luke’s forearm. He had almost forgotten about it in his haste to save his shortbread.

Ashton’s ( _very large,_ Luke notices) hand is wrapped around Luke’s arm and his head is bent, inspecting the pink skin. He runs a finger gently along the surface of the burn. Suddenly shortbread is the farthest thing from Luke’s mind. “It hurts a little,” Luke admits. “But it’ll be fine. You should get back to your bake.”

Ashton looks up at Luke through his eyelashes, still gripping Luke’s arm lightly. His eyes are filled with concern. “Are you sure? It looks kinda bad.”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll have First Aid look at it after I get my shortbread out.”

This seems to placate Ashton, who nods once and drops Luke’s arm. “Okay, as long as you promise to get it looked at. I can’t be the reason you lose an arm. I’ll never be able to live with myself.” He smiles at Luke, and Luke can’t help but smile back. He hopes he doesn’t look too obviously smitten. He can almost feel the cartoon hearts popping up over his head.

“Um.” Luke hears an unfamiliar voice on his left and turns to look. There’s a man holding a camera. How long has he been there? “Your oven?” the cameraman prompts.

“Right, yeah.” Luke steps back behind his bench, grabs an oven mitt, and pulls his shortbread out of the oven to inspect it. It’s slightly more golden brown than his practice batches, but looks mostly okay. “Hmm, not bad,” he says, looking into the nearby camera. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“Great, now go get your arm looked at.” Luke looks up to see Ashton stirring something on his bench, but with his upper body twisted around so he can stare at Luke pointedly.

“Yes, sir.” Luke sighs loudly for dramatic effect and sets his shortbread pan on a cooling rack before he heads toward the First Aid station at the back of the tent. He glances over his shoulder and sees Ashton is still watching him, smiling smugly. Luke shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

*******

The judging for the Signature Bake goes well for both Luke and Ashton, but Luke’s relief is temporary when he realizes the Technical is next. Despite all his studying, Luke has been having nightmares about the Technical challenge all week. He can follow a recipe, but these challenges are notorious for giving bakers instructions that don’t actually tell them how to do anything.

The bakers break for lunch between the Signature and Technical Bake, and Luke’s eyes flit nervously to Ashton. True to form, Ashton seems unconcerned. He joins Luke in the catering line, grinning widely and clasping Luke on the shoulder. “Great job this morning! How’s the arm?”

“Thanks, you too! Arm’s not bothering me too much right now, but it’ll probably start throbbing tonight once the adrenaline wears off.” Luke holds up his heavily-bandaged right arm. “I just have to be careful not to accidentally melt my bandage into whatever the Technical Bake ends up being.”

“Hmm, Viennese whirls with a dash of cancer-ridden melted plastic sound pretty good to me though,” Ashton says thoughtfully.

“What the fuck are Viennese whirls?” Luke’s eyes widen in mild panic.

“Just…they’re the biscuits they made in the Technical for the episode we watched the other day?”

Luke exhales. “Right. Sorry. I’m a little anxious about the Technical, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“That’s fair.” Ashton reaches the catering table and starts loading his plate with pasta. “I guess one benefit of me not really knowing much about the show is that I don’t know enough to be afraid when I should be.”

“Ignorance is bliss, I guess.” Luke shrugs and piles his own plate with pasta. “Unfortunately, I am incredibly intelligent.”

Ashton snorts. “I don’t know about unfortunate, but it’s definitely unfair to the rest of us. You’re allowed beauty or brains, not both. You’re just being greedy.”

A delighted smile spreads across Luke’s face. “The good news is that all it would take for you to join the club is about 80 hours of binge watching _Bake Off_.”

“Is that all?” Ashton asks wryly. “I have _so much_ spare time these days.” He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the outdoor seating. Luke nods in silent agreement and follows him out to the courtyard.

“You just need to believe in yourself, Ash,” Luke teases. “If you apply yourself, you could have the entire series watched by the time we wrap in six weeks. You can’t spend _all_ your time practicing.” Luke settles into a wicker chair and pulls out his phone to glance at his notifications before he digs in to lunch. A normal person might be concerned to see 17 texts from Michael, but Luke knows better than to be alarmed. Most of those messages are probably just Michael repeatedly asking Luke how many cakes he’s made today.

“You’re not wrong,” Ashton says, twirling spaghetti on his plastic fork. “I forget that just because we’re living here we don’t need to spend all day every day baking.”

“And actually, we probably shouldn’t if we want to stay sane,” Luke supplies.

“I’m not sure that’s a great argument for spending all my spare time watching episodes of the show I’m currently competing on.”

Luke chews thoughtfully. “What else are you going to do? Binge watch a _different_ show?”

“My only options are to either bake or watch Netflix?” Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah. We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hmm.” Ashton takes a drink of water and Luke lets himself watch, shamelessly eyeing Ashton’s throat. Without warning, his brain starts conjuring up scenes of Ashton re-enacting that Backstreet Boys music video where they’re all gyrating shirtless in the rain on a basketball court.

“You might have a point.” Ashton’s voice interrupts Luke’s daydream and he’s honestly kind of annoyed about it.

“Huh?”

“Nothing to do but bake and watch Netflix,” Ashton says, eyes mischievous.

“Or read, if you’re smart like me,” Luke retorts smugly.

Ashton giggles and Luke’s stomach flips. Ashton opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted when another baker drops into a nearby chair with a deep sigh. It’s Calum, who Luke met briefly during his Sunday practice session. At the time Calum had been vigorously whipping a bowl of frosting and yelling at it to “Behave, or I’ll put you in time out!” Luke had been both frightened and charmed.

“How are you guys so chipper right now? I am stressing the fuck out.” Calum takes an aggressive bite of his sandwich.

“Oh, I am too,” Luke says. “I was good this morning but the Technical gives me major anxiety.”

Calum looks at Luke skeptically. “Could’ve fooled me. You guys are psyching the rest of us out sitting over here looking all happy and chill.”

“It’s a ruse,” Luke responds. “We’re freaking out.”  
  
“Hey, speak for yourself!” Ashton cuts in. “I’m cool as a fucking cucumber because I’m an idiot who signed up to be on a show I apparently know nothing about.”

Calum chokes a little on his sandwich. “Wait, you were paying attention in orientation though, right? You _do_ know what they’re about to ask us to do?”

“Theoretically. Something to do with making Viennese whirls I think.” He turns to Luke with an evil grin.

“What?!” Calum sits forward in his chair. “Have you heard something about what the Technical is going to be?” he whisper-shouts, glancing around to see if anyone else is listening.

Luke groans. “He’s joking. No Viennese whirls as far as we know.”

“Oh. I guess that’s fine. I don’t know what the fuck those are anyway.” Calum shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich.

*******

“For today’s Technical Challenge, Paul and Prue would like for you to bake…12 classic Dutch stroopwafels.”

Luke lets out a relieved breath at Noel’s announcement. He’s never made them, but he at least knows what stroopwafels look and taste like. Glancing around the room, it seems like he may be one of the few. His fellow bakers’ expressions range from puzzled to panicked, with the exception of his old pal Sophie, who is grinning with delight, and Ashton, Zen as usual.

The start of the challenge is announced and Luke picks up the gingham towel over his ingredients to begin sorting through them. A strong breeze cuts through the tent and Luke shivers. The morning had been pleasant enough, but since lunch the sky has clouded over and the temperature dropped significantly. It seems like they are probably in for an infamous English summer shower.

“Are you a reanimated corpse or something?”

Luke looks up and sees Ashton peering at him over the top of his provided recipe card. There’s a camerawoman over Ashton’s left shoulder capturing the moment.

“Huh?”

“You’re always cold,” Ashton says.

“I’m not _always_ cold. It’s cold out today!” Luke protests.

“You were cold the other day when we were watching the show even though my room was, like, 24 degrees.”

Luke flushes, busying his hands with weighing out sugar. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe you should consider wearing long sleeves.”

“It’s summertime. I didn’t think I would need them in the tent so all I packed were T-shirts to save space.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “No layers?”

“I have my leather jacket, but it isn’t really ideal for baking,” Luke huffs, forcefully cracking an egg into his bowl.

Ashton shakes his head at Luke, then reaches under his bench and produces a black hoodie. He holds it out to Luke in silent offer. Luke is starting to get really cold and he _really_ wants to accept it, but…

“What if you get cold?”  
  
“I run hot.” Ashton shrugs. “Plus, this will help keep your bandage out of your batter.”

Luke laughs and takes the hoodie from Ashton gratefully, slipping it on under his apron. “Thanks. A little bandage batter would make good television though.”

“Speaking of which, I’m surprised you didn’t spend all morning hitting on Sophie.” Ashton abruptly spins away from Luke and starts sifting together his ingredients, like he suddenly remembered he was on the clock. “I thought that was your plan for making good TV,” he says over his shoulder.

“I would’ve, but she’s too far away,” Luke says mournfully, glancing at Sophie at the opposite corner of the tent. “I guess you’ll have to do instead.”

Ashton freezes in the middle of mixing his batter and turns back to Luke, grinning. “Now _there’s_ an idea I can work with!”

“Oh god. The look on your face scares me. Should I be scared?” Luke moves on to heating sugar for caramel, grateful he studied his temperatures recently.

Ashton attempts a cartoonish evil cackle but it quickly morphs into his normal giggle. It’s contagious, and Luke starts giggling too. It makes Ashton laugh harder, which makes Luke laugh harder, and pretty soon they are both gasping and Luke is struggling to keep mixing his caramel.

“Bakers, you have one hour left!” Noel suddenly shouts from the front of the tent.

Luke and Ashton attempt to stifle their giggles and refocus on their stroopwafel, but a smile stays on Luke’s face for the rest of the bake.

*******

Judging for the Technical is tense, since many of the bakers struggled. Luke is pleased (but not all together surprised) when he takes second, and Ashton manages fifth place despite a slightly overdone caramel filling.

The bakers film some quick talking heads outside the tent before they wrap for the day and catch rides back to the hotel. Ashton is called up to film early, and by the time Luke is called for his turn Ashton is already long gone. Luke ends up sharing a car with Calum and Sophie. He folds himself into the corner of the bench seat to try to leave as much room as possible for the others. The heater in the car is still warming up, and Luke shivers and burrows into Ashton’s hoodie as Calum and Sophie pile in behind him, pulling the sleeves down over his freezing hands. Maybe Ashton was on to something when he suggested Luke was a reanimated corpse.

“Awesome job today, man!” Calum holds out his fist for Luke to bump as he settles in next to him. Luke awkwardly returns it as best he can without exposing his hand to the cold. “No wonder you were so calm at lunch. I’m fucked if I can’t pull out an amazing Showstopper tomorrow.” He sounds surprisingly cheerful for someone who came in dead last in the Technical. But, Luke has quickly learned, that’s just Calum. He’s not truly bothered by much.

“Yes, good job, Luke!” Sophie pipes in. “I have to admit I was a little surprised you did so well considering how much time you spent flirting with a baker who was not me.” She pulls an exaggerated sad face.

Luke really wants to grin, but he tries to keep his face carefully arranged in a neutral expression and pointedly ignores the comment. For some reason he doesn’t want to give away just how infatuated he is with Ashton to the others. It seems risky, and he hates feeling vulnerable. “Thanks, guys. But I won’t really be able to relax until we get through tomorrow.”

Calum and Sophie nod in agreement. “You coming to happy hour tonight?” Calum asks. There’s a show-sponsored happy hour at the hotel after each day of filming. Luke doesn’t really feel up for that much socializing, but he knows he should go. Before he can respond to Calum, Luke’s phone buzzes with a text from Ashton.

Ashton: Meet me at happy hour later?

Luke can’t hide his smile this time, so he tries to cover by directing it up at Calum. “Yeah, I think so. For a little bit anyway.”

*******

Back at the hotel, Luke goes up to his room to change and check in with Michael to see how Petunia is doing. One slightly bizarre aspect of being on the show is the requirement to wear the same clothes both days of filming each week to make editing continuity easier. Luke’s T-shirt is covered in flour, so he strips it off and throws it in the bathroom sink to soak.

He sits on the edge of his bed to dial Michael, and as the phone rings he notices that he somehow managed to get caramel stuck in his chest hair at some point during the day. Lovely. He’s picking at it with his fingernails when Michael picks up.

“Owww FUCK!”

“Hello to you too,” Michael deadpans.

“Ugghhhh,” Luke groans. “Sorry, just attempting to extract caramel from my chest hair. Hazard of the job apparently.”

Michael snorts.

“Shut up. How’s Petunia?”

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t even care about me, Luke. It’s never, ‘How are you, Mikey.’ It’s always _Petunia this, Petunia that_.”

“Because I know if you weren’t okay I’d have gotten 47 text messages about it. Unfortunately, Petunia isn’t capable of texting.”

“We’re working on that,” Michael says.

“Has she developed opposable thumbs in the last three days or are you going the voice-to-text route?”

Michael laughs begrudgingly. “I hadn’t actually thought about voice-to-text. That might be the key.”

“So she’s good?” Luke presses.

“Yeah, she’s good.” Michael confirms. “She spent all afternoon laying under the bed and barking, which is weird, but I shouldn’t expect any less from a dog that belongs to you.”

“Aww,” Luke pouts, “That sounds cute.”

“If you say so. How was filming today?”

“I’m not really supposed to talk about it. But fine. Good.”

“Still hanging out with Ashton?”

Luke automatically tenses, but the desire to talk to _someone_ about his feelings for Ashton overwhelms him and he figures Michael is the safest option. “Yeah…I think I might be into him,” Luke mumbles.

“For real?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I knew it!” Michael exclaims. “Man, I know you so well. I could tell just from your voice the other day that you were into him. Damn, I’m such a good friend!”

Luke sits quietly and waits for Michael’s self-congratulatory monologue to wrap up.

“You gonna do something about it?” Michael questions.

“I don’t know. Probably not. You know me.”

“I do,” Michael confirms. “Do you think he’s into you too?”

Luke scrunches up his nose and considers this. He has tried not to think too much about it; doesn’t want to get his hopes up. “Maybe? He’s kind of flirty sometimes, but I think that might just be how he is with everyone, so it’s hard to tell.”

“Hmm. You should set up some sort of experiment to test that theory. See if he acts the same with other people as he does with you.”

“I hate to say it but that’s actually not a terrible idea,” Luke admits.

“But you’d have to make sure your test subject is basically the same level of hotness as you for it to be scientifically accurate. Any of the other bakers meet that criteria?”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Sure, _that_ will make it scientifically accurate.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, we’re going to this show happy hour thing tonight so maybe that will give me a chance to see how he is with everyone else. There’s this guy Calum who’s pretty hot. If he doesn’t flirt with Calum maybe I’ve got a shot.”

“Sounds like a plan. Man, I am so helpful. What would you do without me?”

“Be sad and alone forever, probably.”  
  
“Damn right.”

“I should probably go get ready. I’m kind of a mess from baking all day.”

“Okay. Leave the caramel though. I think it’s a selling point.”

Luke laughs and drops his hand from his chest, where he had been mindlessly picking at the caramel bits while talking to Michael. “Deal.”

“Have fun tonight! Call me tomorrow and tell me how it goes.”

“I will. Give Petunia a kiss for me.”

Luke hangs up and flops backwards onto the bed. He closes his eyes, trying to catch a few seconds of calm and quiet before he prepares to head down to happy hour. A sudden loud knock on his door startles him up. He crosses the room and pulls the door open before he remembers he is shirtless and covered in caramel. Naturally, Ashton is on the other side of the door, because that’s just Luke’s luck. Not much to be done about it now, though, other than hope Ashton doesn’t notice the caramel and think Luke is into some kinky shit.

“Hey!” Ashton greets him with a smile, then does a double take when he realizes Luke’s state of partial undress. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to…interrupt anything.” He flushes slightly, eyes dancing around Luke’s face (And body? Is he actually checking him out, or is that just Luke’s wishful thinking?) without ever landing anywhere. “I was just stopping by since happy hour started half an hour ago and no one had seen you.”

“Shit, really? I must have lost track of time talking to Mikey.” Under Ashton’s gaze, Luke’s arms itch to cover his torso, but he resists the temptation. _Play it cool, Luke. Play it cool._ “I’m just getting changed, then I’ll be down.”

Ashton smiles, dimples popping. “Cool. Okay.” He turns like he’s about to leave, then stops in his tracks. “This is going to sound weird but I have to ask…do you have caramel in your chest hair?”

Luke groans. “I was hoping you weren’t going to notice that.”

Ashton giggles. “It was…kind of hard not to notice it. How did you even manage to do that?”

“I have no idea,” Luke shrugs. “Just talented I guess. Mikey told me to leave it for the night.”

“Why?”

“He seems to think it will help people find me more alluring,” Luke says with a cheeky grin.

Ashton laughs, then tilts his head to the side, looking at Luke appraisingly. “I don’t think you need any more weapons in your arsenal when it comes to that but I suppose tasty chest hair can’t hurt,” he says with a wry smile.

Luke’s stomach swoops pleasantly. He returns Ashton’s smile. “I guess I’ll leave it then. And I’ll be down in a minute.”

Ashton nods and turns to leave, for real this time. Luke watches him walk down the hallway for a moment before closing the door. His body is vibrating like he just slammed half a dozen espressos. He looks down at his caramel-crusted chest, trying to decide how gross it would be to actually leave it. “Fuck it,” he says to himself, grabbing a clean T-shirt out of his suitcase and pulling it over his head.

*******

Downstairs, Luke sees a cluster of his fellow bakers congregating near the lobby bar. Ashton is sitting on a sofa, gesticulating wildly at Calum, who is seated across from him, eyes wide. Ashton grins when he spots Luke out of the corner of his eye and interrupts whatever story he’s telling Calum to beckon Luke over.

Luke crosses the lobby and settles in the empty space on the sofa next to Ashton, who greets Luke with a quick pat on his thigh. Interesting. “I was just telling Calum about how you burnt your arm this morning,” Ashton explains.

“Even more impressive how well you managed to do in the Technical.” Calum lifts his drink and nods in Luke’s direction.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Luke shrugs. “It stings a little but I’ll survive.”

“You want a drink?” Ashton asks. “They have some special _Bake Off_ cocktail called Prue’s Poison or some clever shit. It’s actually not bad.”

Luke considers. He’s not a big drinker, just socially on occasion. One or two drinks is enough to loosen his lips and lower his inhibitions fairly considerably. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he doesn’t want to accidentally end up hungover for tomorrow’s Showstopper. He decides one drink is a reasonable compromise. “Yeah, I’ll give it a try.” He shifts to stand up but Ashton holds out an arm to stop him.

“I’m going to order something to eat. I’ll grab one for you.”

“Thanks.” Luke smiles at Ashton and settles back into the sofa as Ashton walks towards the bar.

“Did you guys know each other before the show or something?” Calum asks, nodding in Ashton’s direction.

Luke furrows his brow. “No, why?”

Calum shrugs. “You just seem to know each other pretty well for week one.”

“We met at orientation and hung out a little over the weekend,” Luke says.

Calum nods and swishes his straw around in his glass. “Figures you’d catch Ashton’s eye while I get stuck with all the grannies.”

“What’s wrong with grannies?” Luke asks.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with them,” Calum says. “They’re just not really a crew I can hang out with for six weeks. We don’t exactly have a lot in common.”

Luke smiles slyly. “Fortunately, you won’t be here much longer so it doesn’t matter.”

Calum scowls for a moment, but his face quickly softens into a rueful smile. “Rude. But probably true.” He shrugs. Luke feels a little bad for teasing him. “Ash and I will keep you company if you get tired of the grannies,” Luke assures him.

Ashton returns with Luke’s drink and a plate of cheese fries. “Hey Calum, you in the market for a six-week hook-up?” he asks, settling back down next to Luke.

“Why?” Calum asks skeptically, nabbing a fry off the plate.

“I ran into Jaycie at the bar and she made it clear she was interested in either of my” – he pauses to do air quotes with his fingers – “extremely attractive friends.”

Luke wrinkles his nose. “That’s kind of a rude thing to say to you. What are you, roadkill?” He takes a sip of his drink. Oh, that _is_ good.

Ashton laughs appreciatively. “Thanks for the support. I’m not too offended though. She told me the only reason she wasn’t interested is because I remind her too much of her ex-husband.”

“Hooking up with another baker seems like kind of a bad idea,” Calum says, without much conviction. “Especially one with an ex-husband.”

“Not necessarily,” Ashton says. “Worst case scenario is it goes south and things are awkward for a few weeks, then you go home. But you never know. Jaycie could be The One,” he teases Calum with a grin.

Calum chews his fry thoughtfully. “Are you actually considering this?” Luke asks him, voice pitched high with mild distress.

“Ashton has a point,” Calum says with a shrug.

Luke turns to Ashton, and Ashton is already looking at him, a strange expression – concern? – on his face. “He does have a point,” Luke says, shifting his eyes back to Calum, “But I don’t think it applies to Jaycie. I don’t stand anywhere near her in the tent and I still heard her mention killing her ex-husband at least seven times today. Seems like a red flag.”

Ashton giggles. “Maybe Calum is into that. We barely know him.” He shifts and slings an arm over the back of the sofa. Luke can feel Ashton’s arm brushing lightly against the curls at the base of his neck. Predictably, he shivers at the feeling. He takes a big gulp of his drink, hoping the alcohol might help him hold off the shakes if Ashton gets any closer.

“Hey!” Calum exclaims. “Why are you giving me a hard time about this when she’s into Luke too? I don’t see you offering him up to be her hook-up slash potential murder victim.”

“Of course not,” Ashton says simply. “Luke’s my favorite.”

Calum’s jaw drops dramatically in faux offense and Luke’s face heats, but he makes a show of preening victoriously as Ashton laughs.

“I knew it was true but I thought you were too nice to say it outright,” Calum says.

“Did I mention the bartender also expressed some interest in you?” Ashton responds, smiling smugly.

“What?” Calum exclaims, spinning around to look at the bar behind him. “He’s hot! Why did you not lead with that?!”

Ashton shrugs. “Because that’s no fun.” Luke breaks into a fit of giggles. He tries to contain it, but he can already feel the alcohol seeping into his brain and he can’t find it in himself to care if he looks and sounds like a crazed hyena.

Calum shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna go talk to him. I might not be here much longer after how today went.” He stands, looking down at a still-giggling Luke and a self-satisfied Ashton. “I’ll see you fuckers tomorrow. Have a good night.” He turns to leave, throwing a good-natured wave over his shoulder.

Luke finally stifles his giggles. “I’m not sure a bartender he knows nothing about is any less likely to murder him than Jaycie,” he says.

Ashton looks at him fondly. Luke feels his whole body flush, but he can blame it on the vodka. “I don’t think planning ahead is really Calum’s strong suit,” Ashton says. “That’s how he ended up with caramel-free stroopwafel this afternoon.”

“And how he’ll end up murdered.” Luke giggles again, highly amused by his own joke. Ashton laughs along with him.

“You are dangerously cute after a couple of drinks,” Ashton says, using the arm perched on the back of the sofa to pull Luke in closer to his side. Ashton smells like coffee, and something kind of spicy. It’s nice. Invigorating. Luke doesn’t even try to resist the temptation to curl into Ashton’s chest. He holds up a finger. “One drink,” Luke sputters, still giggling. “It only takes one.”

Ashton’s eyes light up as he looks down at Luke. Luke notices that tonight they’re light green on the outside, but dark gold near the pupil. “You’re lucky I’m around to make sure no one takes advantage of you while you’re under the influence of one whole drink,” Ashton teases.

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Luke pouts. He traces the tattoos on Ashton’s forearm absentmindedly. It’s nice, he thinks, being buzzed enough that he’s not overthinking every word he says and every move he makes for a change. He wonders if this is how most people feel all the time. It makes him a little angry, imagining how many people are out in the world who can just _talk_ to other people and not feel a constant weight on their shoulders. It’s not really fair, is it?

“What are you thinking about?” Ashton asks, bumping Luke’s head lightly with his shoulder.

Luke doesn’t really feel like having that kind of conversation tonight. He just wants to relax and enjoy Ashton’s company. So he lies. “Nothing, just tomorrow’s bake.” He straightens up and glances over at Calum, who is clearly in the middle of hitting on the bartender.

“D’you think Calum’s going to hook up with the bartender?” Luke asks Ashton, partially for something to say that doesn’t have to do with his feelings and partially because at his core he is truly a gossip fiend.

“Probably,” Ashton says. He pokes Luke in his side. “Would _you_ hook up with the bartender?” he asks, a curious smirk on his face.

Luke scrunches up his face. “I don’t think I could ever hook up with a bartender.”

“Why not?” Ashton’s excited, bouncing his shoulder into Luke’s lightly, over and over, and it jostles Luke into a giggle.

“Stop, I’m going to spill my drink!” Ashton stills, but he’s still looking at Luke expectantly. “I’m just not really a hook up kind of person,” Luke says. “I need to be comfortable with someone and that usually takes a lot more than a few minutes of small talk.”

Ashton nods. “I get that. Okay, let’s pretend it’s six weeks from now and you’ve been at the hotel bar every night, so you get to know the bartender pretty well. Would you hook up with him then?”

“Am I an alcoholic in this scenario?”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Irrelevant. It’s just a hypothetical.”  
  
“It’s kind of relevant. If I’m drunk every time I talk to the bartender I probably would have hooked up with him a long time ago. As you already pointed out, I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“Fine,” Ashton sighs, “You’re completely sober. You just like the cheese fries a lot.”

Luke nods. “Probably not then. He’s not really my type.”

“What _is_ your type?”

“I don’t know. Someone who I don’t have to tip, I guess.”

Ashton laughs loudly. “You’re impossible,” he says, but it’s fond. Luke smiles widely, tongue catching between his teeth. The sense of pride he feels every time he makes Ashton laugh is a high he’s quickly getting addicted to.

*******

Half an hour later, Luke is still on the couch next to Ashton despite repeatedly reminding himself that he’s meant to be socializing with the other bakers as well. His brain is a little foggy and he doesn’t really care. Ashton’s in the middle of telling Luke about some workplace drama back home when Calum stops by to show off the bartender’s number etched into the back of his hand in sharpie before he heads up to his room for the night.

Luke decides he should probably call it a night as well if he wants to be rested and ready to go for tomorrow’s Showstopper challenge. He says goodnight to Ashton, who pulls him into a loose hug. Luke is careful not to get too close or hold too tight. He’s not sure he’ll be able to leave if he does.

Back in his room and still feeling a little buzzed, Luke props himself up on some pillows and calls Michael. “Yo,” Michael greets him, some sort of videogame laser sounds in the background. “Petunia’s still alive.”  
  
“Good to know.”

“That’s why you called, right?”

“Ashton didn’t flirt with Calum,” Luke says matter-of-factly. “And he called me dangerously cute.”

The laser sounds stop abruptly.

“Dude!” Michael exclaims. “That’s good, right?”

Luke sighs deeply. “I guess so. Yeah, probably.”

“Why do you sound so blah then?”

“Because I’m bad at this stuff!” Luke whines. “I don’t know what to do about it if he does like me.”

“Flirt back?” Michael offers unhelpfully.

“I’m trying! I basically felt him up tonight at happy hour.”

Michael cackles. “Seriously? That’s…out of character.”

“I was a little drunk,” Luke admits.

Michael sighs. “Flirt with him when you’re not drunk, moron. So he knows you’re for real.”

“I’ve been trying. I’m just not good at it.”

“You’re so frustrating sometimes!”

“Tell me about it.” Luke nods in agreement even though Michael can’t see him. He can’t possibly frustrate Michael any more than he frustrates himself. He scrubs his hand over his face slowly. Without Ashton around keeping his adrenaline spiking, he suddenly feels very tired, and his burn is throbbing.

“Get over yourself, Luke. Stop wallowing and put yourself out there,” Michael says.

“Easy for you to say.”

“I know.” Michael’s tone softens. “But you’ll be fine. If this guy is into you he won’t care if you’re bad at flirting as long as he can at least tell that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“What if he’s not into me?” Luke asks quietly.

“Oh. My. God. I thought we had already established that he was.” Michael’s talking to Luke like he’s a petulant child, but Luke can’t really be mad about it. He deserves it.

“I _think_ he is,” Luke clarifies. “I’m not sure.”

“You might never be totally sure, Luke. Especially if you don’t do anything about it.”

“I know, and I hate it.”  
  
“I know you do. Think of it this way. The worst that can happen is he outright rejects you, and then you can just bake fewer cakes than everyone else that week and get sent home so you don’t have to deal with the embarrassment.”

Despite himself, Luke laughs. “You’re full of good ideas tonight, Mikey.”

“And you thought you were the smart one in this friendship,” Michael says smugly, as the videogame lasers resume in earnest.

*******

“Do you have a second, Luke?”

Luke’s head snaps up at the sound of Ashton saying his name. It’s nearly an hour into the Showstopper challenge and he’s in the middle of painstakingly cutting gingerbread dough into the shape of a pineapple. “Sure, what do you need?”

Ashton gestures Luke over to his bench, where he’s working on a batch of frosting. “Can you come over here? I’m trying to get my frosting the right color.”

Luke goes over to Ashton’s bench and looks at his mixer, where blue food coloring is swirling into the frosting. “What color are you trying to get?” he questions.

Ashton ignores him. “Just look at me for a minute.”

Luke lifts his eyes to meet Ashton’s, and Ashton looks at him with so much intensity Luke nearly steps backwards. Ashton’s eyes flick down to the mixing bowl, back up at Luke’s, back down again. Luke looks at him questioningly, shaking his head in confusion.

“Stay still,” Ashton commands. “I’m trying to get the color to match your eyes.”

Luke tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Why?”

Now Ashton looks confused, squeezing a bit more food coloring into the frosting and watching the mixer swirl it in. He shrugs. “Because I like it.”

Luke smiles, a blush painting his cheeks. Right now would be the perfect time to take Michael’s advice and make an attempt to flirt with Ashton, but he searches his mind for something cute or clever to say and comes up blank. The second he starts trying, his brain shuts down in all the helpful areas. Luke wonders if his stupid brain is conserving resources on useful things like wit and charm so it can have enough energy to make his whole body hot and blushy and shaky instead. He really should file a complaint with management to address this obvious inefficiency.

“I think I got it!” Ashton says victoriously, interrupting Luke’s thoughts.

Luke looks into the bowl, now filled with frosting that is indeed a familiar shade of blue. He nods in approval. “Looks good.” His words sound stilted and awkward in his ears.

“I’ll let you get back to your biscuits now. Thanks for being my model.” Ashton’s smile is so goddamn cute and Luke is so angry at himself for fumbling this supreme flirting opportunity, but he really does need to focus on his bake, so he just grunts out a quiet “no problem” and returns to his own bench.

*******

Filming wraps by mid-afternoon, with Luke, Ashton, and even Calum making it through the week without being eliminated. Luke is a little disappointed he didn’t get Star Baker, but he knows he wasn’t as focused on his Showstopper as he should have been, too preoccupied with mentally berating himself for his inability to talk to Ashton without being weird about it.

He’s back at the hotel, scrolling through Instagram on his phone while his feet tap impatiently on the carpet. He’s feeling a little stir crazy, which hardly makes sense given that he’s seen more new people and places in the past week than in the entire past six months of quarantine. He considers going for a jog to expend some of his pent-up energy, but the view out his hotel room window shows a bleak gray sky and incessant drizzle. Then it hits him – he’s still wearing Ashton’s hoodie after another cold day in the tent.

He jumps up before he can think too hard about it and heads down the hall to Ashton’s room. Ashton answers his door with a grin. “Miss me already?”

Luke laughs, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. “More than you can possibly imagine. The last forty minutes without you were pure torture.”

Ashton grins. “I can relate. I’ve been gazing at my leftover biscuits as a reminder of the color of your eyes.” In the midst of his figeting, Luke leans a little too far to the left and trips himself on his own foot, swaying dangerously toward Ashton. He manages to catch himself on the doorframe and narrowly avoids an accidental bodyslam.

“Whoa, if I had known it was that easy to make you swoon I would have pulled out the dramatic cheesy lines sooner,” Ashton giggles.

Luke laughs along, trying, trying, trying to think of an adequately flirty way to respond. Blank. Completely blank. Life had been so much easier before he allowed himself to believe Ashton might like him. “It was probably wise to hold back. You could have been seriously injured acting as my makeshift fainting couch.”

“Small price to pay,” Ashton shrugs.

Luke bites his lip and clears his throat. “I actually came by because I realized that I basically stole your hoodie…so I was thinking it might be a good idea for me to go to the store and find something of my own. Is there anything you need? Or maybe you want to come?”

For a brief moment, Ashton looks a little hurt. Luke feels confused and slightly panicked. Did he screw something up? “It’s supposed to be cold again this week,” he adds quickly. “I’d feel guilty if you froze to death because I’m a greedy hoodie thief.”

Ashton’s cloudy expression clears and he smiles. “I’m going to freeze to death in the middle of August?”

Luke nods somberly. “Most likely. And it will be all my fault.” He attempts puppy dog eyes. It usually works on Michael, and apparently it’s effective on Ashton as well.

“Well in that case, let’s go get you your own hoodie. I could use some snacks. I just ate the last of my Tooty Frooties.”

Luke’s face scrunches in disgust. “Tooty Frooties? What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean? Tooty Frooties are great.”

“Sure, if your teeth are made of diamonds.”

“I like a challenge,” Ashton retorts with a grin.

“That’s comforting.” It slips out accidentally. Luke actually means it, and he rarely says exactly what he means. But he knows that _he_ is a challenge, and he hopes he’s a challenge Ashton is willing to take on. He’s at least confident enough to know he’s a better reward than Tooty Frooties.

*******

“Think I can pull this off?” Luke asks, holding up a neon colorblock hoodie to his chest. They’re at a random Marks & Spencer a 20-minute Uber ride from the hotel. Luke’s not even sure what town they’re in, but it feels nice getting out of the _Bake Off_ bubble for a while. Seeing Ashton outside of the hotel and the tent somehow makes him feel more real.

Ashton giggles and shields his eyes dramatically. “I think you might be the only person on the planet who actually could, but I’m afraid it might break the camera lenses if you wear it during filming.”

Luke shrugs. “Okay, but consider this. I can use it for light if there’s a power outage.”

“I’m impressed you actually managed to make _that_ hoodie seem practical.”

“I can rationalize a lot when it comes to clothes shopping. It’s a gift.”

Ashton tilts his head in interest. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fashionista based on your impressive assortment of graphic Ts.”

Luke tries to look offended but it’s hard when he still has the neon hoodie in his hand. “You haven’t exactly seen me in my best clothes. They’re just going to be covered up by an apron and coated in sugar and flour in the tent, and I’m not about to lounge around my hotel room in leather trousers,” he says.

“You own leather trousers?” Ashton asks. Luke nods. Ashton raises his eyebrows appreciatively. “Now that I’d like to see.”

“I’ll wear them for the first episode watch party this weekend,” Luke promises.

“You packed leather trousers but no shirts with sleeves?”

Luke cringes. “Yes?”

Ashton just shakes his head, smiling to himself. He pulls a plain grey hoodie off a nearby rack and holds it out to Luke. “How about this one? Might be more practical.”

Luke puts down the neon hoodie and reaches for the grey one with a frown. “Maybe slightly,” he says, tucking the hoodie under his arm. “But way less fun. Time to find some Tooty Frooties?”

They start walking toward the grocery department. “I might be second-guessing the Tooty Frooties,” Ashton says. Luke gasps, hand dramatically grasping his chest over his heart. Ashton rolls his eyes. “You seemed so appalled by them earlier. I don’t want to scare you away from visiting my room because I have terrible snacks.”

“Aww. I’d still want to hang out with you even if you force-fed me Tooty Frooties.” It’s technically a joke. Technically.

Ashton breaks into a fit of laughter. “That sounds like one of the ways someone gets tortured to death in a _Saw_ movie.”

Luke loses it, giggling uncontrollably along with Ashton as they turn down the candy aisle. “How about this,” Luke says, catching his breath. “You get some Tooty Frooties and…” He glances around the shelves a moment before spotting Sour Patch Watermelons. He grabs a bag and hands them to Ashton. “…some of these, which are much less disgusting.”

“You like these?” Ashton eyes the bag suspiciously. “I’ve never had them.”

“You’re missing out. They’re a million times better than Tooty Frooties. Trust me. And if you don’t like them, I’ll eat them all.”

This seems to satisfy Ashton. “Okay.” He grabs another bag off the shelf, glancing at Luke conspiratorially. “Just to be on the safe side.”

*******

The contestants have the next five days to prepare for their week two bakes, but everyone tries to get their practice in early so they can relax over the weekend and enjoy the first episode watch party Friday night. Luke and Ashton spend their days at neighboring benches in the practice space, joking with each other as they perfect their recipes. They spend their evenings in Ashton’s hotel room, watching old _Bake Off_ episodes on Netflix for as long as they can stand it.

On Friday Luke works all morning to finalize his plan for his week two Showstopper. It’s an elaborate cake he can bake in his sleep, but he’s still struggling a little to perfect the decoration. He doesn’t have the patience for intricate piping. By noon his stomach is growling and his eyes are blurring from staring at his cake intently all morning. He decides to call it a day.

Luke looks over to Ashton at the neighboring practice bench and cracks up when he sees Ashton leaning on his bench with his chin in his hands, staring blankly into space. “You all right over there?”

The sounds of Luke’s voice startles Ashton and he quickly stands up straight, eyes wide. “Sorry. Zoned out for a minute. I think I’ve made as many ginger peach cakes as I can stand.”

“I’m going to wrap up for the day, take some time to relax and clean up before the watch party tonight,” Luke says, beginning to wipe down his bench. “Looks like maybe you could use a break too.”

Ashton’s eyes light up. “That’s right, it’s leather trousers night!”

Luke groans dramatically, but he can’t help but smile. Ashton has made sure to remind Luke of his promise to wear his leather trousers to the watch party at least once a day. Luke likes the little buzz of confidence he feels in his chest every time Ashton brings it up, but... “I’m starting to feel like your expectations for the leather trousers are too high. You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Ashton shakes his head. “Not possible.”

Back in his room, Luke spends a good twenty minutes trying on different shirts and shoes with his black leather trousers to try to come up with a passable outfit. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d only packed T-shirts. Eventually he settles on a black sleeveless shirt and black boots, figuring he can’t go wrong with all black. He looks in the mirror and pokes at his hair a bit, pleased that it seems to be cooperating today. His curls are soft and just the right amount of disheveled. He takes a deep breath and smiles at his reflection. Despite the fact that he’s about to find out exactly how many embarrassing things he’s said or done in the tent that are going to be broadcast to the entire country, he’s feeling good.

*******

Luke follows the signs in the hotel lobby and enters a different, smaller banquet room that’s been set up for the watch party. A large projection screen sits at the front of the room, and a mishmash of sofas, chairs and end tables are dotted around it. Luke spots Calum hovering by a table full of snacks and goes to say hello. Calum sees Luke headed his direction and his eyes widen and his face breaks into a grin.

“Nice trousers, man!” Calum greets him. “How did you manage to get them on? Is that where all my shortening disappeared to?”

Luke rolls his eyes, blushing a little. “I’m only wearing these to prove a point to Ashton.”

“I don’t know what point you’re trying to prove to Ashton, but whatever it is, it seems to be working,” Calum says, nodding over Luke’s shoulder.

Luke turns his head and catches Ashton, who’s seated on one of the small sofas near the projection screen, staring directly at Luke’s ass with a glazed expression on his face. He’s so fixated he doesn’t even notice Luke looking at him. Luke feels powerful under Ashton’s gaze, his body humming with an electric buzz. He turns his head back around slowly, trying not to pull Ashton’s attention to the movement, and smiles wickedly at Calum. “That’s _not_ the point I was trying to prove, but I’ll take it.”

“I think you might have broken his brain,” Calum says, flailing his arms experimentally to see if Ashton notices.

Luke grabs at Calum’s arms to try to hold them down. “Stop! You’re going to make this awkward.”

Calum looks at him questioningly. “Are you or are you not hooking up with Ashton?”

Luke’s first inclination is to play dumb. “I’m not.” Calum squints at him skeptically. “Not…yet. Not yet.”

“But you want to?”

Luke nods. Calum laughs hysterically. “You guys are ridiculous!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Luke tries to arrange his face into a serious expression but it’s hard not to laugh along with Calum’s infectious giggle.

“I don’t know, man. I just assumed after happy hour on Monday you guys hooked up. There was a vibe. And now with the way he’s looking at you, I just thought…” Calum trails off with a shrug.

“I do want to,” Luke reaffirms. “But I like him. Like more than just a hook up. And I don’t know if we’re on the same page. I’m…bad at stuff like this.”

“No shit. It is so obvious that you guys are into each other. There is no logical reason you’re not making out with him right this second.”  
  
“There kind of is,” Luke argues. “It would probably make the rest of the contestants uncomfortable.”

Calum glares at him. “Don’t try to distract me with semantics. You know what I mean.”

Luke pouts, but Calum doesn’t relent. “If neither of you has made a move by the time filming for week two starts on Monday, I am going to stand in front of a camera and recount this entire conversation to the film crew. And I’ll make sure Ashton is in earshot in case it doesn’t make the final edit.”

Luke’s jaw drops. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re too nice,” Luke says.

Calum smirks. “You barely know me, remember?”

“You can threaten me all you want, but it’s not going to make me any less of a pathetic wimp.”

Calum smiles softly and puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You know I’m just trying to help, right? I won’t actually do that if you don’t want me to.”

“Is he still looking at my ass?”

“Yup.”

Luke nods. “I’ll see what I can do.”

*******

Crossing the room towards Ashton, Luke tries to look casual and unaffected, pointedly avoiding Ashton’s eyes until he sits down next to him on the sofa. He can be normal. This will be fine. He can practically feel the confidence he had not 10 seconds earlier oozing out of his body and into a useless puddle on the floor.

He expects some kind of greeting from Ashton, but instead Ashton just stares at him with a slightly manic smile. Luke’s skin prickles under Ashton’s gaze and the silence edges on uncomfortable. Finally, Luke breaks. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Ashton bites his lip and shakes his head. “You seem all sweet and unassuming but you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“I...I’m not sure that I do.” Luke rubs his palms on his thighs anxiously and Ashton tracks the movement with his eyes.

“Well Luke, let me explain it to you then. You walk in the room looking like - “ He gestures lazily at Luke. “- like this. Then instead of coming to say hello, you mosey over to Calum all casual-like and stand so your…assets…are directly in my line of sight for five minutes, _then_ you come over here and sit down all innocently, like you didn’t just melt my brain. I can’t decide if you are an evil genius or if you really are this oblivious.”

Luke is caught off guard by Ashton being so straightforward. His mouth gapes open a little as Ashton looks at him expectantly, with a teasing smile pulling at one side of his mouth. Finally, Luke says, “So the trousers meet expectations?”

Ashton giggles and rolls his eyes dramatically. “The trousers _exceed_ expectations, I’m afraid.”

Luke smirks. “I can assure you this was not pre-meditated. I had no idea the power these trousers held.”

“Did you have any idea the power your ass in those trousers held?” Ashton retorts.

“Not until about three minutes ago when Calum informed me of your ogling.”

“Traitor,” Ashton mutters. “He’s going to regret that next time he needs my help with last minute decorations.”

Before Luke has a chance to respond, the lights in the room dim and the show starts playing. He settles back into the couch and takes a deep breath to try to calm himself down from the high of flirting (successfully, it would seem) with Ashton. He looks around the room at his fellow contestants, trying to ground himself in the moment.

The first time Luke sees himself on screen it feels strange and wrong. He’s not supposed to be there in the famous tent, cheerful orchestral music behind him, familiar hosts chatting a few feet away. But once he adjusts to the strangeness of it, seeing himself on the show is actually kind of exhilarating. The short introductory montage for him includes a shot of him at home, playing with Petunia, and it makes him warm and smiley.

There are scenes showing Luke working intently at his bench, looking extremely competent in his baking skills. There are also scenes with Ashton that include moments Luke missed completely while he was focused on his own work, and he loves getting to see them. Ashton, with his tongue poking out the side of his mouth while he concentrates on drizzling icing. Ashton, with his eyes glinting mischievously at the camera while he jokes about how poorly prepared he is for the Technical. Ashton, shaking his head fondly at Luke as Luke obliviously makes a huge racket shuffling pans around his bench in the background.

And then there are the scenes with Luke _and_ Ashton. The aftermath of Luke’s burn gets some screen time, with a brief shot of Ashton looking concerned while prodding lightly at Luke’s arm. There’s a shot of Ashton offering Luke his hoodie and the banter that follows. The dialogue is reduced to a quiet background buzz, so it’s hard to hear what they are saying to each other, but the smiles on their faces make Luke smile as he watches.

Finally, there’s a longer shot of Ashton looking into Luke’s eyes while he colors his frosting to match. Luke’s breath catches as he watches. It’s strange, seeing a moment he already lived through but having an entirely different experience. Now he’s an outsider looking in, and wow, does that moment feel loaded.

Maybe it’s the magic of television, with the editing and the music and the lights…but seeing how Ashton looks at him in that moment, he realizes all his doubt and worry is misplaced. Whether or not Ashton feels the same as Luke, he knows no one who looks at him the way Ashton does would ever do anything to hurt him.

Luke feels Ashton’s gaze on him as he watches the scene unfold on screen, and he turns to look back at him. Ashton’s eyes are curious and hopeful, lips pulled into a tiny smile. Luke smiles back, wide and sincere, and places his hand on Ashton’s knee before he turns back to the screen. He feels Ashton’s hand on top of his, tentatively brushing lightly against the tops of Luke’s fingers for a moment before settling into place, warm fingers threading between Luke’s. Luke clasps his own fingers over Ashton’s and squeezes lightly.

In a moment of déjà vu, Luke’s dream from last week floods back into his mind. It was _just like this_. Sitting next to Ashton, holding his hand, the pleasant flutter of butterflies in his chest, as the show played on in front of him. The dream was lovely; amazing, even, but this is so, so much better, because it’s real, and because now Luke’s determined to get that kiss.

*******

As the end credits roll, Luke’s hand is still in Ashton’s. He tries to compose himself before he looks at him; tries to think of the right thing to say. The other bakers are already chatting and milling around the room excitedly. He feels Ashton tug lightly on his hand and finally looks back at him.

Ashton’s smiling sweetly, and with his dimples and a few loose curls falling over his forehead, he looks like a cartoon prince. All Luke can do is shake his head. What is his life? He just watched himself on a television show, and now he’s got Prince Fucking Charming of the Kingdom of Amazing Biceps staring at him like he’s the only person in the room. Luke briefly wonders if maybe he’s actually in a coma, and this is just some insane daydream his brain has cooked up while he’s laid up in a hospital bed.

But then his phone buzzes, Michael’s face lighting up the display, and Luke figures Mikey interrupting this moment is about the most real thing that could happen. “Do you need to get that?” Ashton asks, gesturing at Luke’s phone with his free hand. 

Luke considers his options. Part of him really wants to take the call; wants to have an excuse to escape this loaded moment before he has a chance to ruin it. But the other part of him doesn’t want to do anything that would involve Ashton dropping his hand. He hasn’t talked to Michael at all today, and he does want to check in on Petunia, so he decides on a compromise. He answers the phone, but he squeezes Ashton’s hand tighter as he does, an unspoken request for Ashton to stay put.

“LUUUUUKE DID YOU KNOW YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND?” Michael’s voice comes blaring through Luke’s phone at a volume that sounds like he’s on speaker even though he’s not. Luke cringes, relieved that he hasn’t moved the phone close to his ear yet. Ashton’s face is dancing between confusion and amusement, but Luke has a pretty good idea what’s going on. Michael is drunk, which means Michael is in the mood to tell everyone he knows how much he loves them.

“Yes, Mike, I know. You’re my best friend too,” he responds quietly, hoping Michael will take the hint and lower his voice a little before the whole cast overhears their entire conversation.

“Awww. You’re so nice to me. If neither of us are married in 20 years do you want to marry me?” Michael asks sweetly.

Luke snickers. This is not the first time Michael has brought this up. “Sure, Mikey.”

“Yay!” Michael cheers. “Oh, but you’ll probably be married to Ashton by then,” he says, voice souring. “Does he have any hot friends?” he asks, immediately perking back up again.

Luke freezes, panicked eyes catching Ashton’s against his will. He knows Michael’s talking loudly enough that Ashton can hear every word, and Ashton is clearly trying to stifle his laughter. Luke decides avoidance is the best approach. “You’re drunk.”

“Only a little,” Michael says petulantly. “I have to keep my wits about me if I’m going to meet your insanely high expectations for taking care of your dog.”

Luke can hear Petunia snuffling in the background. Against his will, his brain wanders into a daydream of sitting on the sofa with Ashton, just like he is now, but at home in his flat, with Petunia tucked into his other side and maybe with Ashton wearing at least 50% less clothing. This is a daydream, after all; he might as well go big.

“LUUUUUUUUUUKE!” Michael’s voice shakes Luke out of his head.

“Hmm?”

“Hot friends?”

Luke sighs, giving in. “I don’t know, Mike, hang on a sec.” He looks up at Ashton. “Michael would like to know if you have any hot friends he can marry.”

“You’re with him right now?” Michael asks. Luke doesn’t answer, just holds his phone out to Ashton with one hand, his other still wound tightly in Ashton’s.

Ashton grins and takes it. “Hi, Michael! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh my god! Hi!” Michael’s yelling again. “I’ve heard a lot about you too,” he says suggestively. Luke rests his head in his free hand, resigned to the fact that he has lost all control over this interaction.

Ashton lets it slide. “I’m afraid I don’t really have that many friends in London, and even if I did, I don’t know your type.” Luke finds it kind of adorable that Ashton is indulging Michael. Luke finds most things Ashton does adorable.

“I bet I know _your_ type,” Michael teases.

“Oh?” Ashton glances at Luke, surprised and intrigued. Luke shrugs. He knows this can’t be leading anywhere good, but there’s nothing he can do about it at this point.

Michael giggles loudly. “Yeah. Your type is tall, blue-eyed blondes with terrible flirting skills. And with caramel chest hair!” he quickly adds, giggles dissolving into cackles.

Luke rolls his eyes. Michael has never been known for his subtlety. Ashton is watching Luke’s face carefully as he responds to Michael, eyes twinkling. “Pretty close. More like tall, blue-eyed blondes who have no idea how good they look in a pair of leather trousers. Oh, and with caramel chest hair, of course. You nailed that part.”

Luke smiles bashfully while Michael scoffs. “He brought his leather trousers with him? In August?”

“He did,” Ashton confirms. “But no long sleeves.”

“Oh my god, I swear…for being the smartest person I know, he is such an idiot sometimes.”

Ashton hums in assent. “He really is. But I have to defend his choice to pack the trousers.”

“I bet you do,” Michael huffs. “Even I have dirty thoughts about him sometimes when he wears those.”

“MICHAEL!” Luke screeches. Ashton breaks into a fit of giggles, and he can hear Michael doing the same on the other end of the phone. Luke snatches his phone back from Ashton.

“What, it’s true,” Michael responds flippantly.

Luke takes a deep breath. “As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, we’re kind of in the middle of something here. Can I call you back later?”

“Oooh, in the middle of something?” Michael woos in the style of a live studio audience from a 90s sitcom and Luke laughs despite himself.

“Nothing like that,” Luke scoffs. “Do you really think I would have answered the phone?” Ashton snickers quietly under his breath.

“I’m drunk, I don’t have to make sense,” Michael retorts. “Just call me later. BYE ASHTON!” He yells directly in Luke’s ear and immediately hangs up, leaving Luke’s left ear ringing slightly.

Ashton shifts closer to Luke, nudging him with his shoulder. “Michael seems nice,” he says solemnly, a smile tugging at his lips.

Luke takes a deep breath and sinks into Ashton’s side. “He is. He’s also exhausting.”

“Hey.” Ashton nudges Luke repeatedly and tugs on his hand until he pulls him up off the sofa. “Let’s go out on the patio.”

*******

Luke lets Ashton lead him outside, where the excited voices in the banquet room fade into background noise. It’s dark out, but there are fairy lights scattered around the patio, casting everything in a soft glow. Ashton settles onto a swinging bench and pulls Luke down next to him. “That’s better,” he says, arm snaking around Luke’s shoulders. “It was too loud in there. And not just because of Michael.”

Luke chuckles, resting his head on Ashton’s shoulder. “So,” he says, trying to figure out how to initiate this conversation before he wimps out.

“So…” Ashton prompts.

Luke shivers, bare arms cold in the evening breeze. Ashton notices. “All that effort to buy a hoodie and you aren’t even wearing it,” he scolds. But he pulls Luke in closer, offering himself up as a heat source. Luke happily accepts, tucking himself tightly into Ashton’s side.

“I didn’t want to ruin the outfit,” Luke says. “Beauty is pain.”

Ashton snorts. “That checks out. Your beauty has certainly been causing me pain.”

“I can relate,” Luke says, eyes fixed on the hem of Ashton’s T-shirt sleeve. If he doesn’t look at him, this will be easier.

Ashton sucks in a breath, surprised. “Your beauty has been causing you pain?”

Luke smacks him on the chest lightly. “No, dummy. Yours.”

“That is very interesting,” Ashton says, voice edging on smug.

“Is it?” Luke feigns disinterest.

“It is,” Ashton confirms, fingers skimming up and down Luke’s bare arm. “I would very much like to hear more about how my beauty is causing you pain.”

Luke continues staring at Ashton’s shirt sleeve. “Oh, you know, the usual. Obsessing over whether you’re into me. Failing miserably at flirting with you. Living in constant fear of rejection. That sort of thing.” He laughs awkwardly, trying to keep the moment light despite the heaviness of his confession.

Ashton’s fingers still and he unwinds his arm from Luke’s shoulders, tugging Luke up to look him in the eyes. His face is open and earnest, not the teasing smile Luke expected to see. “Hey, Luke. I thought I had made it clear I like you. Maybe I didn’t.” He pauses, searching Luke’s face, before continuing carefully. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t feel the same way. If I would have known you were obsessing over it I would have said something a week ago.”

“So my flirting _was_ terrible,” Luke groans.

Ashton meets Luke’s eyes and opens his mouth to respond, but then he snaps it shut, shakes his head, and leans toward Luke. Before Luke has a chance to process what’s happening, Ashton’s lips are on his. He closes his eyes and leans eagerly into the kiss, immediately bringing his hand to Ashton’s bicep. _Finally_ , he thinks, grasping at the hard muscle of Ashton’s arm while his lips move softly against Ashton’s. He feels Ashton’s hand in his hair, then on the back of his neck, pulling him in closer for a moment, then tugging him back, away from Ashton’s lips. Luke whines a little when his mouth loses contact with Ashton’s, and Ashton laughs gently.

Luke opens his eyes to see Ashton smiling at him, so close he can see light freckles on the tops of Ashton’s cheeks even in the dim light. “Your flirting was fine, Luke.”

“Really?” Luke asks in disbelief.

Ashton drops his hands from Luke’s neck and slides them down Luke’s arms, finally coming to rest on top of his wrists. “Want to know a secret?” he asks. Luke nods enthusiastically, eyes shining. “I haven’t had housekeeping in my hotel room since last weekend,” Ashton says with a chuckle.

Luke tilts his head to the side and knits his brows, confused. “Ew?”

Ashton laughs and lightly shakes Luke’s arms. “No, silly.” He pauses, reconsidering. “Okay, yes, a little ew. But I didn’t want them to change my sheets. I liked smelling you on them.” He looks slightly embarrassed, avoiding eye contact while his cheeks darken.

Luke is positively thrilled by this revelation. His face cracks into a wide smile, and he shifts his arms out of Ashton’s grip to pull Ashton into a hug. “You’re so cheesy,” he says, burying his head in Ashton’s neck and reveling in the opportunity to finally be so close to him.

“You like it,” Ashton says, squeezing his arms around Luke tightly.

“I like you.”

Ashton pulls back to look at Luke. “There, now, was that so hard?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but he can’t wipe the fond smile off his face. “I know you’re in favor of hookups between contestants, but how do you feel about dating another contestant?”

“If the other contestant is you, I feel very good about it,” Ashton answers, tousling Luke’s hair softly. Luke leans into his touch.

“What if it’s Calum?” Luke asks, grinning cheekily.

“Shut up and kiss me again.” Luke giggles as Ashton pulls him in close.


End file.
